


Some Things Stay The Same

by RobinTrigue



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Corn - Freeform, Drabble, Friendship, Gen, Harvest Brock, implied nuclear holocaust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 21:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10396680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTrigue/pseuds/RobinTrigue
Summary: Paul has had many clients before Brock, and expects to have many more after him given how fleeting a human’s lifespan is.





	

Paul Heyman enjoyed his line of work, though it was sad he would lose some of his best clients to old age and withering. Still, that was why he was constantly moving forward, onto brighter and better things. The Undertaker had once been the greatest in the business, until Brock Lesnar came along. After Lesnar, there would be another, and then another. That was how it went.

Ten years after signing their contract, Paul noticed Brock showed no signs of aging, nor of losing more than a handful of matches a year. He certainly was strong.

Thirty years after signing, Paul looked back at the publicity photo and realised with some discomfort they both continued to look exactly the same.

Fifty years after signing, Paul attempted to engage his taciturn client in conversation. It hadn't gotten any easier after all this time.

"So Brock, where do you get your powers from?"

(It had long been clear that Brock wasn't a mere human, but Paul didn't like to admit he hadn't picked up on that from the start. While pretending he'd always known was easier, it didn't do much to sate his curiosity.)

Brock glanced down at his chicken salad. "Plants. Protein. Calories. Get turned into energy."

Paul couldn't even begin to tell what that was supposed to mean, beyond being a first-grade science lesson. "Yes, but how do you avoid death?"

"Death?" Brock looked confused. "Why would I die?"

A hundred years after their contract was signed, Brock was assassinated. It was only to be expected, a common occurrence under New Feudalism. But what Paul didn't expect was for Brock to shake the darts out of his skin and keep going. When he mentioned it, Brock only gave him the same perplexed look. Why would he die?

Three hundred years, and Paul still hadn't needed to take on a new client. His age was catching up to him. It was a good thing the wrestling industry had gone defunct during the great war, because he wasn't sure he could keep up with that rough and tumble lifestyle on top of day-to-day pillaging necessary to maintain the city stockpiles. He walked with a cane now, exquisitely welded, but it still left him slow and hunched. Brock hadn't aged a day.

"It's nice out," Brock said. "Let's sit outside."

"If you say so." Paul followed him past the fortifications to the small lake. They didn't come out here often; the air did smell nice tonight. Brock seemed to enjoy it particularly, leaning his face up to take in the breeze, warm in the light of the setting sun.

"What will you do once your contract expires?" Paul asked. Brock was to be his champion until someone better came along. After three hundred years, Paul now knew what he meant when he referred to the ending of the contract. Oh, he had time left, plenty of time. But he suspected that to his client, it would only be an eyeblink.

Brock gestured to the shoreline, and beyond it, to the distant mountains. "Would be good farmland," he said. "Rich soil."

Paul eyed the ducks that paddled through the rushes. They didn't have ducks, other places. Only here. Maybe Brock was right. Maybe, against all odds, this ground was still fertile.

"Stars will be out soon," Brock said. He seemed to glow slightly here, outside the city barriers, but that might have been the light reflecting off the water. Or it might not. Who knows.

"Not yet," Paul corrected. "In a little while. But give them time."

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's genius of the WWE to write Brock so subtly and without any personality or memorable lines, encouraging us the viewers to decide for ourselves what his gimmick must be! Wow! Thanks WWE.


End file.
